


Blood and Steel

by XxWhiteWolfxX



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abuse, Memories, Near Death, Physical Abuse, Purple Hawke, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWhiteWolfxX/pseuds/XxWhiteWolfxX
Summary: Flynn Hawke is not a weak person by any means. She has been through a lot in her life and proudly boasts that she had only almost died three times in her life. Sure, she has scrapped by with getting close to dying more times than she could count but the times she really almost died only totals three… so far… She is actually in one of those three times right now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This ties into my Fic about Dain and his adventures throughout DAO.

**Prologue**

Flynn Hawke is not a weak person by any means. She has been through a lot in her life and proudly boasts that she had only almost died three times in her life. Sure, she has scrapped by with getting close to dying more times than she could count but the times she really almost died only totals three… so far… She is actually in one of those three times right now.

Hawke pants heavily as she grips her wounded side. Pulling the steel sword from her side she stumbles slightly before turning her head to her companions as her signature smirk settles into place. She takes a deep breath and wheezes out, “All in a day’s…” her knees buckle and she’s looking at the ceiling. Her head falls to the side and the last thing she sees is the blood, her blood on the steel blade. She can feel the blood seeping out of her wound and hears her companions shout her name but it sounds like she is far away. Her hearing fades but her mind picks up a memory, far in the back of her mind and she slowly loses her grip on the present…

 

 *********

Lothering is a decent sized town in Fereldan. It sits near the Imperial Highway, at the edge of the Hinterlands and is the home of the Hawke family. The Hawke’s live in a modest three bedroom cottage on the outside of town. The farm was small but provided enough that the family of five never went hungry. The area was heavily wooded and had a small wooded path that lead to the road into town.

A black haired, brown eyed woman stood near the cooking pot that hung over the fire as she stirred the soup inside. Leandra Hawke smiled at the boiling soup and glanced out the window at the light snow fall. Winter had moved in fast and the soup would be perfect to fight the chill. A beautiful blonde haired, twelve year old Flynn Hawke pushed the door open for her six year old twin siblings, Bethany and Carver Hawke. They didn’t look identical exactly but they shared their mother and fathers black hair. The difference between them was their eyes, Carver had a lighter version of Lyn’s blue eyes and Bethany had their mothers brown eyes with flakes of gold scattered about.

Lyn turned her striking blue eyes up to her mother and smiled, “It’s freezing mother, is the soup ready yet?”

“Soon dear,” Leandra smiled at her daughter. Lyn began untying her scarf then helped Bethany out of hers. Carver always balked at her help, he had to do it himself, and she respected that.

Malcom Hawke walked through the door and closed it. He shook the light dusting of snow from his dark hair which caused the children to erupt in giggles and Leandra to pretend to scold him, “Malcolm, you’re setting a bad example of manners for the children!”

A mischievous glimmer shone in his eyes as he rushed toward his wife, “Oh really?” he picked her up and spun around, pressing her slight frame to his muscled chest, as she giggled like a school girl, “Perhaps you should enlighten me of these so called manners?” He sat her lightly on her feet and placed a loving kiss on her lips. The girls giggled at the sight but Carver pretended to gag. Malcolm gave his love another kiss on the forehead then turned to their children, “Who else wants a kiss?!” The children squealed and ran toward the bathroom and he shouted after them, “I suggest you wash up for supper then!” He turned back to Leandra with a smile and the memory fades away…

**Eight years later...**

Flynn Hawke flipped a stray hair that had fallen in her eyes as she lands from dodging an energy ball her father shot at her. She was 20 and had developed into a beautiful young woman. Constant work and training had made her body toned and strong.

“Nice one Lyn!” her blue eyes dart toward her fourteen year old sister, near their barn, as her signature smirk settles on her face. Her father seized the distraction and smacked her with a ball. Lyn wheezed slightly as she sat up and glared at her father.

“Better pay closer attention next time, _Hawke_.” Her brother Carver said as he walked around her. Everyone not family called her Hawke as the rest of the family tended to stay close to home to avoid the Templars. Laughing at her he pulled out his great sword loose, to take his turn training. Lyn huffed and stood up. Grabbing her daggers and sheathing them, she walked over to Bethany to watch her practice her magic.

“Father didn’t hurt you did he? I could heal you if you want,” Bethany dispelled the energy ball she was working on and looked at her sister in concern and a bit of hope.

Lyn scoffed at her, “Of course he didn’t hurt me, Beth.” Noticing the light blush of embarrassment beginning to color her sisters cheek, she added with a smile, “But if you want to practice, you can.”

Bethany’s smile was radiant, “Thank you! You’re the only one who will let me. Father and mother would but they don’t get hurt as often as you or Carver and you know how Carver is…” She trailed off, not wanting to insult her brother.

“Yes, I do,” Lyn smiled kindly at her sister. She knew exactly how Carver was. She didn’t blame him of course, he felt like he was always in their shadow. Lyn’s skill with daggers was a thing to behold and Bethany had advanced very quickly in her studies. Carver was skilled but it had taken him far more diligence and practice on his part to get where he was. She could see the resentment he harbored for the nearly effortless ease that the girls seemed to pick up their crafts and she felt bad for him but it wasn’t their fault. She felt her forehead scrunch in envy; at least he looked like their parents and didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Her white blonde hair, eyes the color of the piercing blue sky, and tanned skin set her at odds with her family of black haired light blue/ golden brown eyed and pale family.

Lyn’s body relaxed as a familiar warm sensation spread from her sister’s touch, she had been born a healer and it showed in everything she did. Even before her magic had manifested she had a gift for healing, flowers and animals responded gratefully to her mending’s. It was impressive really. Her sister had been her best friend/daughter since the day she was born. Lyn was very protective of her for these reasons. She realized she had instinctively closed her eyes when Bethany pulled away.

“Better?” Lyn opened her eyes to see her sister’s worried face and stretched.

“Much! You’re amazing at that,” She said sincerely.

Bethany blushed and quietly said, “Thank you, Lyn.” They both raised their eyes when they heard a loud pop and saw Carver land on his ass with a loud “oomph”. Lyn started laughing as Bethany ran over to check on him and offer to heal him.

“Get off Beth! I’m not a guinea pig, I’m fine!” Carver brushed past them and Lyn watched him storm away.

“Give him time sweetheart, he’s going through some things,” returning her gaze to her father as he helped Bethany from her kneeling position with tears in her eyes.

Moving to join them she tsked, “No reason for him to be an ass to Beth though…”

Malcolm’s eyes shined with laughter but he started to scold her, “Lyn…”

“I know! I’ll be good!” She backed away with a smile and skipped toward the house to wash up for supper as the memory fades away…

**Three years later…**

Flynn Hawke walked down the road trying to get home before dark. She had gone into town to get information on the Darkspawn horde from the townsfolk and her army friends that were moving to Ostagar, near the town, and to speak with the smithy about new weapons for her and Carver. She planned to bring him with her but before she left something had pissed him off and he refused to join her. She shook her hair free as she removed her braid, letting it tumble in waves passed the curve of her back,   it hadn’t been good news. She wished for the fifth time that day that her father was still alive to tell her what to do. It had been a simple illness that had taken him but Bethany couldn’t cure it and traditional roots and potions had no affect either. Lyn had a fear it wasn’t a simple illness but something far more dark and intentional. Sadly she had no proof.

After her father had died she had taken on the responsibilities of the household, much to Carver’s distain. She did odd jobs in town, not all of the jobs were strictly legal but times were tough. She would bring Carver along on the safer, legal, jobs so he felt more useful. The earnings were used for necessities and the rest was put away for better weapons. They would have to flee. They had no choice. Sighing, she kicked a rock and felt like a coward. Lyn and Carver had volunteered and fought with the Army so she knew the dangers that the darkspawn brought. She had to get Bethany and her mother out of here for their safety.

A movement ahead caught her attention and she slowed. The road had turned to the heavily wooded path as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She was almost home but something didn’t feel right. Picking up her pace, she scolded herself for letting the meeting with the smithy run so long.

Someone burst from the bushes behind her and grabbed her daggers quickly; another grabbed her hands that had risen to grab her daggers. She cursed at herself again for being distracted, she couldn’t move. One of them held her hands against the back of her neck the other one held her dagger to her side, angled to pierce her heart. She stilled as a man dressed in black stepped from the shadows.

“Flynn Hawke.” the man’s gravelly voice drawled out her name like a painful caress that made her want to tremble but she didn’t move, “I have to admit I expected a man, not a beautiful woman,” His gloved hand snaked up to touch her hair.

She sneered at the hooded man before her, “Let me guess, you’re pissed because I fight better than you,” working hard to make her voice sound bored.

The man laughed and removed his hood. The hair beneath was a sandy brown color, his eyes were nearly black and devoid of any emotion except for rage. Tattoos ran across his face and not just any tattoos, slavers tattoos _,_ her breath caught in her throat. “No I’m pissed because you killed my men.” His face was inches from hers and she could feel his breath on her lips. “But you are beautiful…” His lust filled chuckle sent a chill down her spine.

Lyn stood there as the two behind her murmured their agreement and she knew if she continued to stay silent something she considered far worse than death would happen. She was no virgin but that wasn’t the point. So she resorted to what she knew best, how to piss people off.

She faked a cough and the slaver started and backed away slightly, “Could you may be back off a little. Maker, your breath stinks worse than druffalo dung.”

The slavers face turned red and she knew she had succeeded. “Why you little bitch!” He punched her in the gut and her breath wheezed out.

Taking a deep breath she did her best to sound mocking, “Oh grandmother is that you?” pausing a moment for another breath, he punched her again and she groaned out, “be careful there princess, you may hurt yourself.”

With that they all took their turns punching and kicking her everywhere as she laughed to incite more rage in them until she couldn’t. Nearing a blackout, their leader stopped them and ordered something to one of the thugs.

He knelt down, lips nearly touching hers, “Something special for the pretty lady.”

She felt one of the mean cradle her head, to hold it still, and the other pinned her body. Panic settled in, maybe she hadn’t pissed them off enough. Through spotted vision she watched the leader produce a needle and she gasped. He was going to tattoo her. She tried to fight but it was no use, she was too broken to do anything. So she closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself strength, and stared at the man in distain. She didn’t cry or flinch as the man took his time tattooing her.

As he finished his work, he leaned down and pressed an angry kiss on her lips, “Maybe next time you’ll think before you mouth off, bitch.” The three men laughed at her and before they left her there the man stomped on her right arm and it gave a sickening snap.

Broken and bleeding, she lay still trying not to make a sound until the men were a safe distance away. After a while she smiled to herself, her plan had worked; they hadn’t forced themselves on her. She moved her unbroken arm and lightly touched the tender flesh around her left eye and cheek. It burned but she didn’t have time to cry over the thing now, she had to get home before she passed out and died out here. She pulled herself to her feet with a groan that ended in a whimper; glad her legs weren’t broken she limped painfully home. She had to stop multiple times to lean on a tree for fear she’d pass out. Her unbroken left arm cradled her broken arm, breath wheezing from her broken ribs, and her vision was blurring by the time she could see her home. Luckily Bethany stood on the porch, worrying for her no doubt, because she stumbled and fell. Her exhausted body wouldn’t respond to her commands anymore. She heard her sister scream and call her brother.

Just before her vision darkened she saw the leaves blow in the wind, for some reason it calmed her. She whimpered as strong hands turned her over and she heard a gasp. “Her face…” Bethany’s voice sounded thick with tears. She felt her brother pick her up and couldn’t help the groan that escaped her.

“I’m sorry Lyn,” suddenly she felt the light wind on her skin cease, she was inside.

Another gasp, “My baby,” her mother sobbed.

Every movement was beyond painful. By the time Carver gently placed her on the table she was ready to die, anything to escape the agony of her body. Bethany must have gathered herself because she went straight to work, ordering Carver to grab this and that for her. Lyn whimpered again at the pressure of Bethany’s hands and gasped at the familiar warmth that began spread through her. After what felt like hours her vision returned and she saw the silent tears flowing out of her sisters closed eyes. She moved her hand to her face and wiped them away, causing Bethany to jump.

“I’m not dead yet, Beth,” she gave a small smile and passed out.

She awoke two days later and groaned at her sore muscles. Carver must have heard her because he slipped into her room to help her sit up, “How is Beth?” she had used a considerable amount of magic to heal her so she knew she would be wiped.

“She slept nearly all day after she healed you but she’s fine,” Lyn sighed in relief and leaned against her headboard, “What happened, Lyn?”

Lyn looked uncomfortable for a moment but told him everything that happened. Her hand touched the tattoo on her face, “Is it horrible?” She asked in a small voice.

Carver sighed and looked at the tattoo, “It’s a claimed property mark of the local slavers but he added embellishments. It’s not as ugly as most of them. The bruises make you look kind of badass with it.” He tried to joke but swallowed and looked away, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. If I hadn’t of been an ass and refused to go…”

Lyn touched his forearm lightly, “Don’t. It’s my fault.” He laced his hand with hers and they sat there for a while, minutes or hours Lyn still isn’t sure how long, until the other two women rushed in to check on her. The memory fades…

**2 days later…**

Preparing for the journey out of town, she had taken Carver to the smithy to pay for the weapons she had commissioned. She walked into the smithy’s shop and over to the counter waiting on the smith. The most beautiful pair of daggers she had ever seen sat on a blue velvet cloth. She picked them up slowly, almost reverently. She examined the red and black hilt and the wicked details of the blades, she slowly picked them up and they fit perfectly into her hands. The smithy had out done himself for sure! She had been testing the weight by twirling them a bit, when a man in armor walked in. She didn’t hear him at first and had begun to move with the daggers, silent and intently like a poem. Her movements were sure and practiced, not her usual dramatic flair, but she was still healing in some places so she took it easy. She moved until she tripped over a staff that had fallen over and nearly fell herself. Carver snickered at her and grabbed his great sword taking it outside. She turned to tell him off as he left but instead she blushed furiously because the soldier was staring at her. He had on a helm that covered his face but she could see his grey colored eyes clearly and they held an approving look in them that made her smile through her embarrassment.

He held out his hand for a dagger, “You have skill da’len.”

The sound of the man’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. He twirled her dagger and she looked over his armor and noticed a long sword at his belt. ‘He is skilled in more than one weapon, impressive,’ she thought. She was surprised when he sat the dagger back on top of the cloth on the counter and removed his helm, running a hand through his dark tousled hair and her breath caught when she saw his pointed ears. When he turned back to her she saw his tattooed forehead and her curiosity piqued.

She smiled at the handsome man before her, “and whom do I thank for such a complement?” She asked as she stepped toward the stranger.

Her eyes widened as the man crossed his arms and bowed to her, “Andaran atish'an, my name is Dain of the Grey Wardens.” He smiled at her as he rose and, though shocked, she sent a flirtatious smile back.

“Pleasure to meet you, Dain, my name is Flynn Hawke.” She held out her hand to shake his and he cocked an eyebrow at her but stepped forward and shook hers. When his hand touched hers a jolt of sexual awareness moved through her. This was a man, not the boys her town called men. Suddenly she wished she had been brave enough to look in the mirror before she left this morning. Her mind finally caught up with her and her smile faltered, “If you’re here… Did we lose Ostagar?” His smile faltered and surprise registered in his eyes, “I fought with King Cailins Army a few times…”

He grimaced at her, “The shemlen Loghain betrayed your King and my commander. We lit the signal and the bastard pulled out instead of sending the rest of the army in.”

Lyn gasped and searched his face for a lie, “Shit,” she moved to the counter for her other dagger and sheathed them, throwing the agreed amount on the counter. “They are heading this way then?”

“Yes,” he watched her movements with guarded eyes, “you really believe me, just like that?”

Lyn looked the man over and gave him a half smile, “I fought with the army, I knew how bad it was, and I knew a few of the Wardens. Wardens don’t joke about the blight.”

Suddenly the door of the smithy burst open and Alistair ran in, “Get this witch away from me!”

“Alistair!” Lyn and Dain shouted in unison, lowering their weapons they hadn’t realized they’d drawn. Sheathing her daggers she grinned at the man across the room. Alistair ran over behind her and used her as a shield as a woman in scant clothing sashayed in.

“She’s evil, Hawke! He brought an evil witch then left me out there with her!” Alistair said as he peeked from behind her and sent ‘the witch’ a glare.

“If I have to endure another minute of his whimpering I cannot be held responsible for my actions and I am a _mage_ not a witch,” the beautiful woman said as she waved a hand and placed the other on her hip, glaring at Alistair, “I also happen to have a name!”

“Morrigan please…” Dain rolled his eyes and sighed.

“See, our fearless leader knows it,” She tossed her hand carelessly at Dain.

Lyn laughed at the scene and detached Alistair from her, “If I would have known it would only take a mage to get you to touch me, I would have found one earlier,” she winked at Alistair and suppressed a giggle at the immediate blush and stammering that came out of his mouth.

Alistair had stepped away and finally saw her bruised and newly tattooed state. He gasped, “What happened, Hawke?”

Lyn blushed and looked at their company. She was unsurprised to find Dain staring at the tattoo but was surprised at the anger in Morrigan’s expression.

The mage spoke, “She’s been marked as property by the local slavers. If I were to hazard a guess, you pissed them off?”

Alistair gasped, “No! But wait your alive and obviously not a slave?”

Lyn laughed bitterly, “Well, you know how when you kill nearly all of a slavers men, then tell him his breath smells worse than druffalo dung, add that he hits like your grandmother, and that the princess should be care or they might hurt themselves?” She said casually then gestured to herself, “This is the finished product.” Self-consciously biting her lip she looked away.

“You are either stupid,” Morrigan said after Lyn had finished wrapping up her rambling explanation, “or very, very smart.”

“They could have killed you, Lyn!” Alistair’s face scrunched with worry, “Why would you piss then off on purpose?”

Lyn straightened as much her injuries would allow, “There are things worse than death Alistair and with two of his men preventing me from fighting back… Let’s just say death was preferable.”

“Very smart it is then,” Lyn started when the mage walked up to her and lightly touched her tattoo. “It is pretty thing though, you can add one mark here,” She traced a portion of her cheekbone and moved to make a twirl above her eye, “and here. ‘Property no longer’ or ‘no one’s property’ which would be here and here,” Her finger traced further down from her cheekbone to her jaw and ended in a twirl then moved to her other cheek and made two lines. She moved back and gave her a small smile.

Alistair openly gaped at Morrigan and after she smiled he grumbled, “Sure, her you can be nice to!”

Morrigan rolled her eyes and moved back to where she had stood before, “Her I like.”

Smiling at the banter between the two, her eyes moved back to Dain, who was leaning against the wall with one foot propped up, looking at her intently. “Did you kill them?”

Her smile fell, “No. After… after they left I was too broken. I barely made it home and that was only four days ago…” she shook her head and met his gaze, adding angrily, “I need to get my family to safety and I don’t have time to hunt them down.”

Dain nodded his understanding and pushed off the wall as Carver came back into the shop, “Lyn are you…” His sentence trailed off as his eyes landed on Morrigan.

“Yes Carver I’m coming. Did you get the other supplies?” she asked as she watched him practically drool at Morrigan.

“Yes,” he answered without looking at her.

“Good,” she rolled her eyes and looked at the three of them, “It was nice to meet you two but I must go. Alistair, thank you for finally touching me,” she sent him a wink and smiled when he blushed again, then added, “Thank you for the advice Morrigan and Dain,” Dain smiled lazily at her and her heart nearly skipped a beat, “If you are ever in need of bed warmer you call me.” She laughed at the way his eyes widened when she finished her sentence and the disgusted noise her brother made, “Take care of each other.” After one last smile at the trio, she stepped from the shop and the memory fades away.


End file.
